


Death and Family

by Seaflower



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Catwoman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Batfamily Feels, F/M, Love, M/M, Multi, Slice of Life, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:00:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaflower/pseuds/Seaflower
Summary: Bruce Wayne has died. What does this mean to the world? What does this mean to his family?This story explores a situation real to many individuals, even superheroes.





	1. The Cabin

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Family](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795052) by [UndeservingHero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeservingHero/pseuds/UndeservingHero). 



> I have recently read and enjoyed Undeserving Hero's story, The Family. If you are a fan of batfamily, and Jason Todd in particular I encourage you to read it. This story has inspired me to share my own idea of how the Batfamily would respond to Bruce's death. However, I should warn my audience, my view of the characters is different from Underserving Hero's.

In a world of snow and fury, the smell of fresh pine is locked within the northern air. A steel haired woman walks out of the winterized cabin, her eyes firmly locked onto the frozen lake in front of her. The turn of the century stone cabin, feels like it is the only structure left at the end of the world, surrounded by a blanket of white. She does not fight the tears streaming down her face. The soft red wool scarf collects her mourning. She is not a gate to between life and death today. Today she is Leslie Thompson, and she has killed a knight today. Gotham’s first son. Time drips away as she ponders the actions she has taken. Eventually, Her accomplices, two young men and a young woman, file out of the cabin. 

The young woman places a winter jacket over her shoulders, her thin callous fingers gently stroke Leslie’s chin, her dark eyes hard. Her shields highest to contain the sorrow.  
“It is done” whispered the tallest man, his pale skin lighter than she has ever seen it.  
“You should go, there will be phone calls to make, and it will be harder to deal with the media if they find out you all were here when it happened.” Leslie replied.  
The smallest jumps over the porch without a glance backwards, he is a creature used to rage, pain a state vexatious to his worldview.  
The young woman follows her brother.  
“We will see you soon Leslie” Tim says as he grasps her arm in a goodbye.

Tugging her scarf tighter around her throat, she wipes her cheeks before re-entering the cabin. Any other time, she would take a moment to admire the hardwood floors, the rich dark leather couches and three meter wide fireplace. Instead her eyes turn to the two dark haired men sitting in facing leather arm chairs, a small wooden table between them. A bottle of 100 year old scotch sits between two glasses. One glass half full with dark honey liquid, while the other sat emptied. A smoky substance mixed in the dark honey liquid. 

The two men look almost familial, however surreal that might be for anyone who did not know them as intimately as Leslie. To the outside world, Richard’s dark tan skin, wild ebony ink black hair and royal blue eyes are too different from Bruce’s ivory tone skin, ink black hair devoid of the shine and blue- grey eyes cold in the warmest situations. However, they do not have Leslie’s mother hen eyes. The twitch of Richard’s right eye and the thin lip remorse smile is mimic perfect to the hidden face Leslie saw on a younger Bruce Wayne. Richard’s slow thumb rub against Bruce’s right hand, a trick he learnt from his father many nights ago when he lay shivering in his bed, the screams of his parents still new in his ears. 

There are aspects of both Bruce and Batman in all his children; however none of the other children could ever match Dick Grayson in exemplifying his father’s sense of duty. As their lovers would attest, their desire to save lives is a testimony to their ability to love. It made them easy to love and a nightmare to date. 

“You didn’t have to mix the prescription yourself Richard” I whispered to the young man.  
“We could not have them secretly fearing you Leslie, when they see your face at the table, they must see a woman who will fight for their life.” He whispered back, the hollow in his voice echoes, the flicker of the fireplace only shining bright into one pair of open blue eyes. The lithe young man stands; silently he moves to kiss one of Bruce’s sharp angled cheekbones. “I love you Dad.” There is no movement from the larger man. Yet a small smile sits on his face. 

I leave to walk to the black Cadillac Miller-Meteor hearse parked at the back of the cabin, Dr. Dylan an Ontario pathologist and mortician slumbering in the vehicle. I open the door and shake her awake.  
“Bruce Wayne is dead, we need to tell the world”.


	2. The Harbour

 

News stations and papers around the world stopped the day Bruce Wayne died. No famine, wars or riots, could top the story of the man richer than God dying in a remote cabin in northern Ontario. The fact Bruce Wayne secretly had dual citizenship was more shocking to the blue blood elite of Gotham city, than the passing of their own prince. Jason Todd got to witness the reaction of the average Gothamnites in the dive bar on the west side by the river ports.

The words, “euthanasia” and “doctor assisted suicide” are thrown around. Confusion on how Bruce Wayne was able to pass the requirements to legally gain such as death is high amongst audience members. Refusal from the family to give details creates a wall enforced by doctor-patient privilege.

One eye Pete rubs Jason’s elbow, as he grabs his beer and throws it back. Red fingers grasp the glass, raw from hauling large cargo from the shipyard. He and Jason turned to the blaring TV screen.

“Can anyone get a doctor to sniff them out in Canada?” Pete wonders.

I turn to him. For a guilty moment, I envision his buck teeth covered in blood. It takes all my control to hold my impulses back. Like everyone else, this death comes as a surprise. Bruce Wayne, the face and playboy of Wayne Enterprises, larger than life, was last seen leaving a private party with three supermodels two weeks ago. His smile and situation the envy of many heterosexual males wishing they could have half his looks and money. They were triplets don’t you know?

Throwing back the tequila in front of me, I shut my eyes. Allowing myself to remember where I am. The moment passes.

“Canada recently allows for euthanasia, for medical cases of Canadian citizens facing natural terminal illnesses that are "grievous and irremediable".

“Why would Bruce Wayne gain dual citizen for that?” Pete exclaims. I deck him. My patience only has so much it can take. Listening to questions by people who barely care about the man ---

“You know you can’t punch _everyone_ who asks that question _Todd_ ” a sultry female says behind me. The smirk and tight black leather dress pure sensational Selina. Most men and quite a few women turn our way; if I wasn’t pissed off I would laugh. It’s not every day a modern Goddess stops in this place. Especially to talk to a hood rat like me. “Let’s talk outside” she says without waiting for my input or a glance backwards.

I barely blink an eye when the ends of a bull whip encase my arm and pulls me up to the roof of the bar. A ring of cats circle her legs as she bends down to sit crossed legged on the roof. They cover her exposed legs as she motions to the spot beside her. Now in the dark, the smirk is gone and her evergreen eyes look out towards the water.

At one point in my robin life, I hated her guts, hated every minute her reformation period stole from me and Bruce. To me, she will never be the pseudo-mom of Nightwing’s private fantasies, however, I felt an ease with her that I could never have with the other members of the Batfamily, even Alfred. Alfred may have my unending love, but only Catwoman knew what it is like to live on Gotham streets for years on end, to live beside sewers and dive into dumpster for food. Once I asked her how she got off the streets. I had Bruce Wayne. She had her mind, skills and her pin-up body. Like me, she also believes that some situations warrant the use of lethal force. He sent her roses, I got grounded.

I’m not bitter.

She hugged me as I sat down beside her, the crescent moon looming over us. Our breaths beautiful silver smoke.

“You didn’t go with them” she stated. Her tone neither curious nor accusatory.

_Fleeting memory – 2 Years ago_

_I put the last of Penguin’s goons and zip tied him for Gordon’s boys. I return my gaze to where Batman had held court with 10 of his other goons. A milk run for the old man._

_9 of the men lay? on the ground twitching. Their faces showing the state of their despair._

_Before Bruce a scrawny seventeen year old boy struggling in his left grip. I stand there waiting for the knockout punch. Bored of the night, and dreaming of my pillow back home. A minute goes by. His right arm never leaves his side. Perhaps this is a new fear tactic. I walk over. When I get there I look into Bruce’s cowl. His white lenses tell me nothing, yet the tug of his right lip corner tells me something is wrong._

_“Batman”…_

_No words leave his mouth._

_“BATMAN”_

_All our enemies are down, and the police are on their way, yet a prickling along my spine screams and I feel like a 12 year old boy again watching his mother junk her life away, unable to stop what I do not understand._

_“BATMAN!” I scream_

_Finally his right arm lifts up and the boy is put down with the others._

_“What the HELL was that!” I scream, not able to stop the rage in my voice._

_“Nothing Hood, I got lost in thought”_

_“Lost in thought? I may not go to all the family dinners anymore, but I know you, and you never get lost in thought during a fight._

_“Let it go”_

_“Fuck you old man, if I did that or replacement, you would make Leslie run test and bench us till we’re sixty before you would let us out on the streets again. I’m not your Golden boy, or your spawn, you can’t avoid my questions with in order. “What the fuck was that old man?!” I screamed again, fuel by fear._

_ Memory end _

“He didn’t want me there” I replied. Emerald sharp eyes glare at me, causing me to look away. Dick must have told her. “I couldn’t be there” I admitted. Slowly those sharp eyes turn soft, she curls tighter into our hug. The cold winter air nipping at our noses.

“Old age should rage at the dying of the light” she said while rubbing my cheeks. For a moment, perfect understanding passes between two old gutter punks.

Minutes ticked away as the waters crashed onto the shore.

“I almost went, even though he begged me not to go” she whispered. I smirked despite myself. Even in the end, Bruce could not give up being her strong dark knight. No, with her he was vain, unable to allow her to see his we---“You tend to bring Chaos with you Selina; it would have ruined all his plans to sneak off to the true north without bringing American paparazzi.” She laughs; we both know why Bruce didn’t want her there.

 “I still don’t understand why he just didn’t go to New Jersey, it must have taken forever for the citizenship”. She laughs again, and one of her ginger felines purrs against my knee. “Oh he had that before you and your siblings lived at the Manor. Back when he was a nervous detective, and wanted to investigate a series of murders concerning dual citizens. He relished undercover work in those days. I think it allowed him to be human, to imagine a life outside of the bat.” She purrs.

“Really?”

“He never told you the story?” she asks.

My silence answers her questions.

“Well let me tell you about an awkward twenty-something Batman, when the world was simple, and I crash his investigation with my own Northern adventure”.

Tomorrow, I will have to head to the manor. The family will need me. But tonight, my rage gets suffocated by a humorous retelling of the side of my father I never got to see. Two Eastenders desperate to ignore their emotions getting lost in the story of a living Bruce.

Reality could wait one more day.


End file.
